


I've Got This Friend

by PancakeGoth



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Awkwardness, F/M, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Mental Health Issues, awkward babies
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-18
Updated: 2016-12-05
Packaged: 2018-05-02 05:58:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5236943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PancakeGoth/pseuds/PancakeGoth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU where young troublemakers Lee Shepard and Garrus Vakarian meet in Spectre training. Best friend adventures, coping with mental illness, figuring out feelings, and beating up the baddies. Will add tags, warnings and characters as needed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I Need You To Lead The Way

            Garrus fussed with the collar of his shirt as the elevator took him to Dock 422. For his first Spectre training “mission” (read: glorified errand), he had been tasked with the retrieval of the first human Spectre candidate; a young woman boasting an impressive record within the Alliance fleet. It was common knowledge on the Citadel that humans were looking to impress the Council, and she could be their ticket to having more sway in galactic affairs. He sighed softly, fidgeting with his hands. It chafed him to be sent as an errand-runner when he could instead be running field simulations, but he had to admit he was curious to meet her. She was widely spoken about over the news, but she was never seen in the vids anywhere, which was perplexing- humans loved their celebrities, especially war heroes. Had her narrow escape on Akuze left her severely disfigured? Maybe half her face had been burnt off? He shuddered at the thought. The elevator dinged and he strolled to the S.S. Normandy’s gate, lost in imagining what his new colleague would be like, stopping along the guard rail and admiring the bright lavender haze of the Serpent Nebula.

“Um, excuse me? Are you by any chance here on behalf of the Spectres?” someone asked from behind him.

He turned toward the voice and was confronted with a strange-looking human in an Alliance uniform, followed by a man whom he presumed was her superior. She was of average human height with pale skin that glowed in the nebulous light, and a lean build. There were dark half-circles under her eyes, and her wild, waist-length hair was dyed a pale violet that reminded him of the lilacs he saw in bloom one spring while visiting Earth. He remembered their cloying, headache-inducing fragrance and the soft, pastel colours they came in- nothing like the jewel and neon-toned flowers he was accustomed to back on Palaven. The way the starlight lit her up made her look, ironically, like a spectre. She stared at him expectantly. Drawn out of his reverie (her hair colour matched her irises- he wondered if that was intentional), he awkwardly introduced himself.

“Er, Officer Garrus Vakarian, Citadel Security. I’ll be escorting you to your new quarters at Spectre HQ.”

He extended his gloved hand towards her. Grinning, she shook it, her grip much firmer than he expected.

“Commander Lee Shepard of the S.S. Normandy.” she replied with a nod, standing at ease. “You’re the first Turian I’ve ever met in person. You don’t seem so bad,” she commented, a wicked grin pulling at the corners of her mouth, “so far.” 

Garrus quirked his face plates, amused. Her superior- a dark-skinned man with a serious face- rested a hand on her shoulder and looked Garrus in the eye.

“I’m Captain David Anderson,” he said with a curt nod. “The Commander tends to get _excitable_ in novel situations.” He shot her a stern look. “She has been looking forward to this placement for some time.”

“Well,” Garrus remarked, his subvocals lilting slightly, “hopefully I’ll make a good first impression. I’d hate to ruin Turians for you right off the bat.”

Shepard laughed.

“We’ll have to see, won’t we.”

She challenged him with her toothy grin. Anderson cleared his throat loudly.

“I have a meeting with Councillor Udina that I must attend,” he announced, barely concealing his disdain at the thought of it, “Officer Vakarian will take you from here, Commander. I’ll be in touch.” He exchanged a small farewell bow with Garrus and turned to leave, halting after a few paces. “Oh, and Shepard,” he called over his shoulder, “do behave.”

Shepard placed a hand against her heart and gasped in mock scandal as she watched the Captain walk away. When he was out of sight, she turned to Garrus and sized him up. She had of course seen Turians in vids and books, but this was her first time looking at one up close. Her new comrade cocked an eyebrow plate under her silent scrutiny.

“Sorry, I don’t mean to stare,” she broke eye contact and rummaged through her travel bag, producing a chocolate bar which she bit into with gusto. “This is just really new to me.” She waved around her.

“Uh,” Garrus stared at her wolfing down her snack, “do most humans eat… like that?”

Shepard snorted.

“This is part of my secret stash I keep on the Normandy. You wouldn’t know it, but Anderson’s a fiend for sweets. I’ve gotta hide this stuff from him or he’ll eat it all, then complain about how his stomach hurts.” She chewed pensively for a moment, savouring it. “I’ve been _dying_ to eat this,” she held up the half-eaten bar in its wrapper, “I don’t know if dextro rations are as bad as the levo ones, but _man_.”

Garrus nodded, chuckling.

“Ah, the flavourless yet nutrient-rich dextro-amino paste us Turians call rations. Why enjoy treats when you can bore your taste receptors into torpor?” Shepard giggled.

“I’d share, but, y’know.” Her cheeks tinted pink. “Anyway, let me properly introduce myself. I’m Lee, but everyone calls me Shepard,” she curtsied lightly, “I know they ban Spectre trainees from reading each others’ dossiers because they want to encourage bonds that form organically, which I think is cool and all, but I hacked into your file anyway. Lots of formal reprimands. I think we’re gonna get along.”

She finished her chocolate bar, seemingly satisfied.

“Hah! I read in your file that you were tech-savvy, but now I’m impressed.” He replied with a smirk. “It also mentioned your lack of regard for rules that you don’t agree with. A woman after my own heart.”

“I’m glad that’s in there. Wouldn’t want anyone to get the wrong idea about me.” She shouldered her travel bag and shot him a conspiratorial wink. “Now, Officer Vakarian, let’s get me set up in my new pad, shall we?” 

Garrus’ mandibles fluttered.

“Right this way, Commander.” He motioned for her to follow.

“Just Shepard is fine. Everyone calls me that.”

“Sure thing, Shepard.”

 

            They made small talk as they walked to the Citadel Spectre dormitories, all the while Garrus tried to get a read on his new human companion.

“So... What’s with the hair? I can’t say I’ve ever seen a human with that particular shade before.”

“Well, at first the Alliance brass weren’t very fond of it. I used to dye it a darker indigo colour, but I was told once I joined the military that it wasn’t “professional” enough.” She made air quotes with her fingers and rolled her eyes. “I brought it to their attention that some of the higher ranking officers dyed their hair red; and they eventually stopped bugging me about it.”

Garrus’ eyes widened.

“Didn’t you get chewed out for insubordination?”

“Nah. I mean, I was the top of my class, they weren’t going to get me in trouble just ‘cause I like my hair colour on the cooler side of the spectrum.” She brushed an unruly lilac lock out of her face and shrugged. “The indigo stained my pillowcases though, so I stick with pastels these days.”

Garrus whistled.

“Wow. The human military must be soft. If a Turian ever pulled something like that...” he trailed off.

“I just know what I can get away with,” Shepard remarked mischievously. “I have a knack for evading reprimand- comes in handy when you’re dealing with uptight military types.” _The audacity of this woman_ , Garrus thought with touch of admiration. He wondered how she managed to make it through the Alliance ranks. As though she read his mind, she added, “I’m uh... not very good at taking orders. I guess that’s why they shipped me off to Spectre training.”

“Hmmm. I have a good feeling that’s the reason why I’m here too.”

He gave her what he hoped was a heartening expression. She dropped her gaze and smiled to herself.

 

            A few minutes and one run-in with a Hanar preacher later, they reached the complex that served as the Citadel Spectre Headquarters. It was a black, four-storey building with tinted windows and a number of conspicuous security cameras around the perimeter.

 “This is it,” Garrus announced, pulling up a program on his omni-tool and tapping away on the holographic keypad as they approached the front doors.

“And this is just dorms?” Shepard asked, taken aback. “It looks armed to the teeth.”

“No, though it does have over 100 private rooms. Sometimes fully-fledged Spectres stay here when they visit the Citadel. Beats paying for a hotel, I guess.” He shrugged.

She opened her mouth to volley more questions at him but was interrupted by a robotic voice.

“ _Welcome, Spectre trainees Officer Garrus Vakarian, Commander Lee Shepard,_ ” the voice chimed from a small speaker. “ _Please wait a moment... Scanning complete. No hostiles detected. Enjoy your day._ ”

The doors opened with a hissing sound, and they stepped into the black marble-floored foyer.

“Wow. Stylish.” Shepard remarked, eyes darting around, taking in the slick decor.

She noticed some comfy-looking, slate-coloured leather(?) couches to their right, occupied by a small group of other trainees having a lively conversation about handcannon mods. To their left were two sets of shiny metal elevator doors and the entrance to the staircase. Directly in front of them was a circular desk at the centre of the room, which Garrus started for.  They were greeted by a cheery young Salarian who was managing a number of bright interfaces with incredible efficiency.

“Hello Officer Vakarian! How may I assist you?” she asked, her hands flitting along the different screens.

“This is Commander Shepard, she needs the key code to her dormitory and weapons locker,” Garrus replied breezily, leaning on the shiny black desk top.

The Salarian typed for a moment.

“Ah yes! Lee Shepard! The first human Spectre! Just swipe your omni-tool over the interface and it will retrieve your personal codes for you, along with a file containing your welcome literature. It is highly recommended that you read it before you begin your training.” Shepard smiled tersely, dreading what she knew would be at least a hundred pages of dry, bureaucratic nonsense. “If you have any questions, feel free to come visit me here. Alternatively, there is a terminal in your dormitory where you can access the building’s VI.”

Shepard swiped her omni-tool, which pinged quietly.  

“Room 22, eh? Thank you, um...?”

“Isilik Ulsa,” the Salarian beamed.

“Thank you, Ulsa.”

She gave the Salarian a sort of half-salute and sauntered over to the elevator, Garrus in tow.

 

            Shepard’s dorm was fairly simple: a bed, bathroom, kitchenette, work desk with an extranet terminal, and a couple of chairs stationed around a coffee table. Everything was in shades of utilitarian grey, and the floor was made out of some kind of dark alien hardwood.

“Not bad!” she exclaimed, dropping her bag at the foot of the bed and untying her boots. Garrus hovered uncertainly in the doorway. “Come on in, sit down,” she offered.

“Uhh...”

“C’mon. Do you have anything to do for the rest of the day?”

She kicked off the boots and sat on her bed, cross-legged. Garrus closed the door behind him.

“No, nothing until tomorrow,” he admitted.

Shepard slapped her knee and stared at him intently.

“Alright then! First thing’s first, I’m going to need your extranet address so I can get a hold of you when you’re not around. Here’s mine.” She produced a small notepad and pen from her pocket and scribbled furiously on it. “I hope that visor translates English writing for you, because my printing is _the worst_.” She tore off the page and held it out to him, forcing him to step forward to claim it. He looked at her questioningly but input her address into his omni-tool and pinged her. “Sweet. Ok, second thing. Get the fuck out of those lame military duds and meet me back here in ten.”

She began unbuttoning her jacket.

“… Sorry?”

“We’ve got the whole day off and I’ll be damned if I’m gonna spend it reading that welcome package and twiddling my thumbs. Let’s go explore the Citadel!”

She shrugged the jacket off, revealing a plain black t-shirt underneath.

“Twiddling? Wait, I-” Shepard raised her hand in a “shooshing” motion.

“You’re the only person I know here, so by default you have to be my adventure buddy.”

Garrus eyed her for a moment and sighed.

“Sure. See you in 10.”

“See you in 10!” Shepard beamed.

 

            Garrus walked to his dorm half in a daze. Did he just get bossed around by a human? He didn’t know what to think of the Commander yet, but he definitely knew why he had never seen her in the vids- putting her on the network would be a disaster. She’d probably end up getting overexcited and punch somebody for all he knew. He entered his room and unzipped his uniform, exchanging it for a pair of black fitted slacks and a white underarmour shirt with thin padding running along the outsides of his arms and waist. He sat at the edge of his Turian-style nest-bed and tried to psych himself up for whatever misadventure he was surely about to set out on.

“Just breathe…” he whispered to himself, wringing his hands together, “it’s going to be fine.” He inhaled and exhaled slowly, reaching over to his nightstand and plucking a small pill from a bottle labeled “Vakarian, G.”. He placed the pill under his tongue and counted to one hundred. “Alright, Garrus,” he stood up, stretching his arms, “let’s do this.”

By the time he made it back to Shepard’s dorm, she was standing outside it, playing a card game on her omni-tool. She’d changed into tight black jeans and a black, long-sleeved t-shirt with indecipherable writing on the front.

“Hey.”

At the sound of Garrus’ voice she looked up and smiled.

“Hey! Look at you! Ready to go exploring?” she asked, exiting her game.

Garrus nodded.

“Where to first?”

“I was hoping you’d have that figured out,” Shepard admitted, leaning against the wall. “I have no idea where anything is.”

Garrus scratched one of his mandibles thoughtfully.

“Well… there’s a market not too far from here. I’m sure there will be lots of aliens like me for you to gawk at there,” he teased, to her delight.

“Yes! That’s a perfect idea!” she headed for the elevator, clapping his shoulder as she passed him.

“I was only being half-serious…” he followed her with a groan.

The elevator doors opened and she stepped in.

“C’mon. I need you to lead the way,” she grinned.

He smoothed the folds in his shirt and joined her.


	2. Just Roll With It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter we get to enjoy our heroes awkwardly feeling out this human emotion called friendship.

            The second Garrus left to change out of his uniform; Shepard flopped back onto her new bed and sighed loudly. It had been a long day, week, year. She rubbed her tired eyes and stared up at the white-tiled ceiling. There was an uncomfortable heat inside her; made her itch, made her thirsty. Her muscles all coiled and tensed.

 _Just gotta keep busy_.

She rolled over and searched through her bag, pulling out some clothing and a small white cylinder with a cap on one end and small buttons on its sides. When she had undressed down to her underwear, she uncapped it, held it to the outside of her thigh, and pressed one of the buttons. There was a tiny hiss and Shepard winced, capped it, and tossed it back into her bag before pulling her clothing and boots on. She drank a few mouthfuls of water straight out of the tap and, wiping her mouth, left the room, pulling up her solitaire app.

 

* * *

 

 

            “Can you not gawk at people a little less conspicuously?”

Garrus chastised her quietly.

“Can you not be such a total baby? It’s not every day you get to walk around an alien market for the first time.”

The market extended from one end of a dim, wide corridor to the other, and was packed almost shoulder-to-shoulder. It looked as if every species was represented, and all were pushing to get through to the vendors who called out from their stalls- some of which sported flags and lanterns, others boasted strange signs that glowed upon alien faces. The air was aromatic with foreign spices and various solvents; the din of patrons urgent, yet comforting. Garrus began a retort, but she held her index finger up and tapped a command into her omni-tool. All of the pleasant chatter from her translator feed suddenly ceased and her ears were barraged by a cacophony of languages: pips and trills, deep drones, harsh and guttural sounds. She turned to Garrus, whose voice spanned a range of tones all at once, as if he were speaking backwards into an electric harmonizer. She laughed. It wasn’t unpleasant. A group of human children ran around them, one diving through Garrus’ legs, to his apparent chagrin. She tapped at her omni tool.

“-a word I’m saying?”

He made a small, exasperated gesture with his arms, an argon sign harshly illuminating his features. Shepard felt a jolt in her chest as it finally dawned on her how completely _alien_ this all was. That he was. She laughed from the thrill of it.

“Sorry, I just got the idea to pause my translator, what with all of these different species around and talking.” she shrugged her shoulders. “It was cool. Your voice is really cool.”

Garrus puzzled at her as an Asari shoved past him.

“Augh… Do you wanna get out of this crowd?” he grimaced. “I’m honestly not one for so much, uh… Contact.”

“Think you can bear with me for another minute while I nab that sweet Geth Dreadnaught over there?”

She pointed off into the distance at a small red tent displaying numerous model ships. He nodded.

“Yeah, that much I can do. C’mon then.”

He led the way with Shepard following closely behind, snaking through the crowd, enjoying the multitude of bizarre visages, smiling at strangers. Suddenly her face fell, and she pressed her palm against her companion’s spine.

“Ok Vakarian, listen to me closely. Act cool. We need to bail the fuck out of this trajectory like right now, okay? Off to the left.”

Her eyes darkened. Garrus stiffened but nodded.

“What’s the trouble, Shepard?” He asked, casually changing his direction.

“Three o’clock. Human male, stupid pointy head, dark eyebrows,” she muttered under her breath, “my ex.”

Upon scanning the crowd, he picked out who she was talking about- a man in a blue alliance uniform, average height, coiffed hair. He was walking alone, face stuck in a data pad.

“Ah. Does he have a visual?”

He positioned his body between her and the man. She peered around his torso.

“Shit, shit. We have eye contact. Abort evasive manoeuver.” The man waved and headed their way; she sighed deeply. “Now I’ve gotta talk to this dingus. Let’s get it over with,” she clenched her teeth as she turned to face him.

“Shepard!” The man called out as he closed the distance between them.

“Hey!” She did her best to fake enthusiasm.

“Wow, I haven’t seen you in forever! How are you? What are you doing here? You look… Amazing.”

The man stared at her in admiration. Shepard narrowed her eyes and looked down at her very casual, unrevealing outfit.

“Uh, thanks? I’m good. Finally made it to the Citadel. Garrus, this is Kaidan Alenko. Kaidan, this is-”

“Garrus Vakarian, Council Spectre.” Towering over both humans, the Turian held his right hand out, and gently pulled Shepard close, his left hand on her shoulder. “Lee’s told me _so much_ about you.”

He shot a quick glance down at her.

_Just roll with it._

Kaidan paused for a moment, his panic almost palpable, and tentatively shook his hand.

“Oh. Uh, nice to meet you,” he murmured, “sorry, I had no idea-”  

“No harm, no foul,” Garrus said cheerily, “we’re on our way to Apollo X for lunch. It’s so great that they expanded to include both dextro and levo amino menus, right dear?”

He squeezed her lightly. Shepard perked up.

“Right! In fact, we’ll miss our reservation if we don’t get going.”

“Oh! Sorry, I-“

“You’ve got my extranet address. Ping me sometime and we’ll catch up. Good to see you! Bye!”

She held her fingers up in a peace sign and tugged Garrus away. When they had made a safe exit to a nearby seating area, Garrus crossed his arms and leaned against one of the white plastic chairs.

“Sorry about that, Shepard. Had to make it look convincing.”

They eyed each other warily for a long moment. Time stood still around them. The side of Shepard’s mouth twitched, and the two doubled over with laughter.

“Dude, that was hilarious! Did you see his face?! He was sweating _bullets_!”

“He looked like he thought I was going to eat him or something. Incredible.”

When her riotous giggles petered out, Shepard looked up at her new friend and gave him a nod.

“Thanks, Garrus. You didn’t have to do that.”

She tucked a wayward strand of hair behind her ear. Garrus hummed quietly.

“No problem. I’ve had my fair share of… delicate situations with old flames. I know the drill.”

“I smell a story.”

“Ah,” he ran a hand over his fringe, “I’m afraid I’m not sober enough right now for that.”

He chuckled awkwardly, eliciting a grin from Shepard.

“Well… how about we grab some drinks after lunch and we can get nice and tipsy, then tell each other way too much information about ourselves?”

“You read my mind. What about your model ship?”

“Pffft,” she dismissed the idea with a flick of her wrist, “no way I’m going back there right now. I’ll grab it later.”

“C’mon, let’s hail a cab.”

 

            They were dropped off in a flashy neighbourhood that seemed to be almost entirely comprised of lit-up screens and holo-ads, with restaurants and bars in-between. An LED-swathed cinema loomed in the distance, advertising the latest Blasto movie. She noticed everyone appeared to be one of the Council races, with the exception of Humans and the odd Volus or Quarian- maybe it was a class division thing? It made sense to her that society’s elite would belong to the races controlling Citadel Space, though the idea of it left a bad taste in her mouth. _Bureaucracy_ , she thought in disdain. The whole place had a mega-mall vibe that reminded her of her teen years back on Earth, before she joined the military. It made her slightly uncomfortable, but somehow nostalgic. She chewed her lower lip.

“This is the edge of one of the Citadel’s entertainment districts,” Garrus explained, “where you go if you’re looking for something more edible than your basic take-out.”

“Man, I’m criminally underdressed here.”

She plucked at her shirt as a group of Asari in colourful gowns walked by.

“You’re fine. If Alenko back there is to be trusted, you look-” he fluttered his eyes and clasped his hands together, “ _uh-maaaazing_.”

“Haha!” She punched him in the arm. “Fuck off, you. Let’s get some food, I’m starving.”

“You got it, ma’am,” he teased, “Apollo X is this way.”

 

            The café was a warmly lit building with a huge patio space, and a smaller, more intimate indoor seating area. They claimed a booth inside, where a charming Human took their orders and brought them drinks, which they sipped at intently and avoided eye contact. A familiar tune drifted quietly from the speaker system and Shepard found herself hard-pressed for words.

“So,” she started, pausing to sip from her mug of tea.

Garrus chuckled.

“I always find it’s a lot more difficult to talk to someone you don’t know when there aren’t any distractions going on to feed the conversation,” he observed. “So let’s start at the beginning; what made you join the military?”

He rested his elbows on the table, hands laced together. Shepard brushed her hair out of her face and breathed out.

“Well, it’s kind of a sob story so I’ll keep it short. I grew up in and out of the foster care system on Earth and ended up running with a gang.” She looked into his eyes, a steely blue made even more intense by the black skin surrounding them, and cast her gaze down at the steaming cup. “It was bad news, so when I turned 18 I bailed and joined the military. Kept me busy, clean, and hell, I even seem to be good at it.” She smiled weakly. “What made you join C-Sec?”

Garrus rolled his eyes.

“My dad. He’s been working at C-Sec forever, and when I got out of basic, I figured I’d apply there. It seemed noble enough.”

He grimaced and took a swig from his glass of purple liquid.

“What do you mean?”

“It seems like you’re doing the good thing, you know? You’re the police and it’s your job to protect people and put the bad guys away. What you don’t realize is that there’s so much red tape and politicking and bullshit that the _truly_ bad guys? They always get away. And there’s nothing you can do about it.” His fist clenched. “That’s why I can’t wait to be a Spectre. I won’t have to adhere to the rules; I can just get the job done.”

Shepard made a sympathetic expression.

“I understand. That’s gotta be really hard.”

“You have no idea. The only reason I’m even in Spectre training is because I stopped my dad from blocking my entry… He’s… Not very pleased with me right now.”

He gazed, sullen, down at his hands.

“Aaaand here we go!” a voice chirped. The waitress placed their food in front of them, grinning in the way that all servers must grin: insincere yet polite. “Is there anything else I can get for you two?”

“No, thank you.” Shepard dismissed her, returning her gaze to Garrus. “Listen,” she reassured him, “if your old man has an issue with the Spectres, it’s all on him, not you. He is the one who sucks. That food however,” she eyed his giant plate, “looks amazing. What is it?”

Garrus eased out of his gloom and held a piece up. It was a small, bright roll, not unlike makizushi.

“This is _sibula_. It’s actually a bastardized version of an Earth food. Raw sea creatures wrapped around other raw sea creatures.” He joked, popping it into his mouth. “Pretty good stuff.”

Shepard cackled.

“Oh man. You guys took sushi and removed the filler. That is so Turian.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Garrus exclaimed, feigning offense. “Look at your food! I’ve never even seen that before.”

“It’s okay, Vakarian. There’s a first time for everything. May I introduce you to the noble avocado, and its friends bocconcini and tomato. It’s called salad. Sometimes salad has leaves in it but not today! You just squeeze this little lime on them like this and then…” She shoveled a great forkful into her mouth, humming contentedly. “You allergic to levo? You wanna try a bite?” She offered.

He looked at her plate distrustfully.

“No,” he admitted, “I’m not. Are those animals or…?”

Shepard snorted.

“No, these are technically fruits. And cheese. I don’t eat a lot of meat, really. You should try some though. You should do it.” She goaded, pushing her plate in his direction.

He considered for a moment.

“Okay, I’ll try a bite of yours if you try mine, deal?”

“Deal.”

She reached out and grabbed one of the little fuchsia swirls. It felt slightly softer than rubber, and the centre was tangerine orange. At the same time, Garrus speared some of her salad on a fork and examined it.

“On the count of three. _One… Two… Three_!”

They shoved the food in their mouths and chewed, faces scrunched up. Shepard fanned at herself in distress and forced herself to swallow.

“I cannot believe I just ate that…” she moaned, slumping back into her chair.

Garrus looked on, unperturbed.

“Spirits, Shepard. How can you eat something so flavourless?”

“That was like… eating chewy battery acid and iron. What the fuck.”

“Honestly, dextro rations are more exotic than this, and they taste like wet cardboard.”

“Shut your face. I didn’t know Turian food was so caustic. I wouldn’t be surprised if there was a hole in my tongue.”

They chugged their respective drinks.

“I’m thinking I stick to dextro and you keep the levo?”

“ _Deal._ ”

 

            They finished their meals in companionable silence. The familiar music wove in and out of every wordless moment like threads of a comfort blanket. It was good. They exchanged a smile. Around them, diners chatted with friends, lovers, parents; utensils _tink_ ed, chairs scraped, laughter echoed through the space. It was all very Human, Shepard decided, then reconsidered. No, it was just people. That was what people did. After the jarring experience of the market, it was nice to wind down, however briefly, in a place that felt like home. She sighed. She really liked it here. The waitress swooped in with their bill, all pearly white teeth and enthusiasm. Garrus pulled out his credit chit but she shooed him off.

“I’ve got this. You can buy me a drink later.” The Turian knew better than to protest. With a full belly and an aching curiosity, Shepard stepped out with him at her heels. “What’s the best bar you know, Vakarian?”

“Oh, that’s easy,” he smirked. “A little place called Network.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, Kaidan. *Canadianness intensifies* He'll be back, and less pathetic, I promise.  
> You may have noticed that this chapter focuses more on Shepard's thoughts and feelings. I'm gonna try to stagger the perspectives with each chapter. Why? I don't know, I just am.  
> This chapter was tedious as all heck to write, but it had to be done so I can get on to the next part of the story! Yeah! Thanks for reading and for the kudos, you all are very nice people.


	3. Time To Blend In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our precious friends find themselves in a bit of a pickle.

            The conversation died. Garrus couldn’t take his eyes off her. There was a kind of magnetic quality to the way she was staring off into the distance, lost in thought. The famous Commander Shepard, sitting quietly across from him, eating a salad. He almost laughed at the situation he found himself in- he could hardly believe he had been so bold earlier at the market- it must have been the meds taking an effect. In fact, he didn’t feel stressed out at all. The lights softened and the music drifted along lazily as if time was caught in tree sap, settling into the amber of A Perfect Moment. Nobody had ever taken his side before. _Maybe_ , he thought to himself, _maybe she could be someone I can trust_.

 

* * *

 

 

            “It’s a bit of a walk from here, but there’s a lot of stuff to look at on the way,” Garrus explained as they strolled along the esplanade. He rested his hands in his pockets, unsure of what else to do with them, while his companion twirled a strand of her disorderly hair. “That is, if you like people-watching,” he chuckled. “Since every planet has its own night and day cycle, there are always lots of really drunk travelers around, no matter what time it is on the Citadel.”

“Ah, you’re one for schadenfreude, eh?”

“Call it cruel, but I can’t help but feel a little bit better about myself every time I see some sucker spilling their gullet in one of the potted plants along this stretch.”

“Don’t speak too soon, Vakarian;” Shepard grinned, “by the end of tonight, that could be you.”

The Turian raised an eyebrow plate.

“Is that a challenge?”

“Maybe for you. I don’t find the idea of drinking you under the table very challenging at all.”

“ _Oh_ ,” he tittered, “you are _so_ on. Drink of choice?”

“Beer. The good stuff, not the mass-produced commercial bullshit. You?”

“More of a brandy sort of guy. Turians don’t do well with carbonation.”

“Better than Ryncol, at least,” she admitted.

“So you know Ryncol, hmm?” He glanced at her, curious. “How does a human who’s only worked with other humans in the Alliance navy know about a thing like that?”

Shepard shivered.

“One of my comrades managed to acquire a few bottles in time for my company to go on shore leave. We all went to a hotel and played drinking games. Just about everyone got alcohol poisoning that night.” She sucked air in through her teeth. “Now that’s a pain no medi-gel can fix.”

“Spirits, Shepard. I’m amazed you stayed coherent long enough to drink that much,” he replied, admiration tinging his subvocals. “I mean, you’re so damn _small-_ hah, ow!!”

He recoiled after receiving a hearty punch to the arm, drawing looks from a Salarian-Asari couple walking by.

“Haha you jerk! Not everyone can be seven feet tall!”

“Now now, don’t get _short_ with me, Commander,” he smirked, pleased with himself.

She glared daggers at him.

“You’re lucky we’re not back at HQ or I’d fight you for that,” she threatened idly, to his amusement.

“Wily. I like that. Let’s take a rain check on the sparring match, I’ve got something cool to show you.”

 

            He led her off to an alley between the buildings ahead, a dark dead end. There was a single abandoned shoe off in the corner.

“Uh, what?” Shepard gestured quizzically.

Garrus pointed up.

“See that ledge? We have to go up there to get where we're going. Think you can jump that high?”

The overhang was at least 10 feet off the ground, and there was nothing in the alleyway that she could climb on to reach it. She frowned.

“No, I don’t think so. Are you trying to make a point here?”

She crossed her arms. Garrus laughed.

“No, I’m not. Come here, I can boost you.”

She narrowed her eyes.

“Fine.” She stepped up to him, arms out, uncertain. “How do I, uh…?”

“Step up on my spurs then hop up to my shoulders,” he beckoned.

She lingered apprehensively, examining the protrusions of bone on the back of each leg.

“You sure? That’s not gonna hurt you or anything?”

“I promise it won’t,” he assured her, bracing himself against the wall.

She rolled up her sleeves, placed a hand on his arm and stepped up onto his left spur, then pulled herself up over his back until she was kneeling on his shoulders.

“You ok?”

“Just fine, Shepard.”

She stood up precariously. The ledge was at her waist.

“HEY! WHAT ARE YOU KIDS DOING?!”

Their heads both snapped in the direction of the voice. A human C-Sec officer was standing at the entrance of the alley. Instinctually, Shepard hauled herself onto the ledge and extended her arm down.

“C’mon!”

Wasting no time, Garrus leapt up, catching the ledge with one hand, and Shepard’s arm with the other, who heaved him up and over with all of her strength.

“Follow me!” he barked, and took off in a sprint.

“HEY! COME BACK HERE!”

“Not on your life!” Shepard called back in a laughing taunt and followed her friend. They seemed to be on the roof of a dance club, the rhythm of a bass vibrated beneath their feet. They vaulted over ducts and jumped to the next roof, and then to the next.

“Over here!”

He slowed his pace. They were on top of another night club- or maybe the same one? _How big are night clubs_ , he wondered, the noise pulsing into the evening. He looked back. Shepard was almost right on his heels, her cheeks tinted pink from running, grin stretching from ear to ear, hair trailing behind her like a lilac whip. There was a maintenance door glowing off to their right, and they made for it.

“Quick, quick HACK IT DUDE!!” Shepard cheered, looking over her shoulder. She could see the officer scrambling up the edge of the adjacent roof on a ladder. There was a series of beeps, then they were plunged into the dimly-lit, deafeningly loud building, closing the door behind them. It locked automatically. Without hesitation, Garrus grabbed her wrist and hastened them down a set of maintenance steps and into the main club.

            To call it a cacophony would be an understatement. The music reverberated in their ribcages, and the air smelled like sweat and fog machine. There was a neon bar off in the far corner, and dancers around the perimeter performing on tables. They paused for a moment with orange, green, and pink lasers playing across them, bodies writhing in front of them. They spared a quick glance at each other, and, bracing themselves, made their way into the crowd. Garrus peeked back at the stairway to see the tenacious officer stumbling his way down, winded from the pursuit. It occurred to him for the first time that he was grasping her warm little hand in his tightly. She looked at him, as if to ask, _what now_? An idea sprang into his mind, more than likely inspired by the plethora of b-rated action/romance movies he definitely did not watch in his spare time. _Time to blend in_. He began to dance. Her face lit up as she joined him with wild abandon, like a child, laughter drowned out by the speakers. The room flashed orange, green, pink. His face felt warm. Her smile was contagious. It was kind of endearing how uncoordinated she was, flailing around without a care in the world. Peering over her head, he saw the officer pushing toward the exit, exasperated and defeated. He silently thanked the b-movie spirits and decided he’d tell her it was all clear… In a moment. She twirled in his arms, spun out, then pulled him, bewildered, into a dip, holding him up with both arms, face hovering inches above his. His chest constricted. Panting from the adrenaline, she gazed intently into his eyes, pulling him back up. He took a step backward, breathed deeply, and made an “ok” sign with his fingers, motioning toward the door. Grinning, she nodded, heading for the rooftop again. His palms radiated with her heat. The beat throbbed in his skull.

He found her sitting on an exposed duct, staring out over the plaza.

“It’s strange.” she murmured, “I’m technically sitting outside, but there’s no breeze.”

He sat down next to her.

“It’s something you get used to with time,” he assured her softly.

People milled about and chatted on patios. There were no birds to sing, and the trees stood still as statues.

“That was fun back there, running from that dumb cop. I mean, no offense.” She watched him in her peripherals. “Reminds me a bit of the old days.”

“He wouldn’t have been able to do anything if he did catch us, but I’m glad you’re so easy to impress,” he nudged her, pointing at a vintage signalling tower a building over, “because that’s where we’re going. Not now, since Mr. Boy Scout is probably still on patrol, but eventually. Hope you're not afraid of heights.”

Shepard considered it quietly, and nodded.

“Wanna grab that drink? I’m parched.”

“Definitely.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WHOAAAA SEXUAL TENSION  
> Thanks for reading, everyone, and for the comments and kudos. You're mighty fine.


	4. It's Hard To Find Good Beer In Space

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I HAVEN'T UPDATED IN SOOOO LOOONG I'm REAL sorry about that. It's a very long story and I absolutely will not bother you with the details as they are a bummer and this is a place of magic and fun.  
> Let's catch up with Lee and Garrus eh? Let's enjoy a little mutual discomfort, perhaps some NASCENT FEELINGS? The final chapter before we get to see these kids in action at the Spectre Academy, and they're getting wasted~

            Shepard’s heart did a little somersault of excitement when she stepped into the dim establishment and realized it was a human bar. The walls and floors were made of scrubbed, dark-stained maple that had experienced a fair amount of wear and tear over the years. Patrons chatted at mismatched wooden tables by candlelight, or reclined on second-hand, beat-up sofas draped in afghans, while a vintage “Print Your Own Cup!” machine flashed cheerily as tourists and locals alike 3D-printed steins and pint glasses and brought them up to the bar, just like their parents did back in the day. She good-naturedly rolled her eyes at the abundance of kitschy knick-knacks nailed to the walls and let a wave of nostalgia wash over her. The crown jewel of the place, however, was the gleaming black granite bar with 15 shiny, beautiful, precious, _glorious_ beers on tap. The Hallelujah Chorus played in her head.

“Garrus,” she uttered reverently, “do you even know how hard it is to find good beer in space?”

He grinned at her and motioned toward a tealit table for two.

“Thought you might appreciate this place, seems kind of your style,” he mentioned as they sat down.

“How in the hell did a _human dive bar_ become your favourite spot?” she asked incredulously. He shrugged.

“They have good music here. Lots of cool live bands.”

“Wait, what?!” She leaned in, scrutinizing him, hands resting on her thighs.

“Don’t sound so surprised, Shepard,” he waved a hand nonchalantly. “Can’t a Turian enjoy a little artistic culture now and then?”

“Yeah, I mean… I thought they drilled all that out of you in the military.”

“That’s usually the case. Although, I can’t say I’m a very good Turian to begin with, and damn it if you Humans don’t make some nice music.”

Shepard shook her head.

“You’re full of surprises, Vakarian.”

A young, bearded man in a server’s apron approached their table.

“Hey Garrus! Brought a friend along this time, I see?”

“Hey Mark,” Garrus responded warmly, reclining in his chair, “this is my friend, Sh-”

“Lee,” she cut in, smiling, “pleased to meet you.”

“Pleasure’s all mine. Can I get you guys a drink? The usual for you, Garrus?”

The Turian nodded.

“And for the lady?”

“Hmm,” Shepard craned her neck to look at what they had to offer on tap. “A pint of Spacer Stout please.”

“Coming right up!” he disappeared toward the bar.

“What was that all about?” Garrus asked her, cocking his head slightly. Shepard sighed.

“The Alliance unwittingly does me a favour by not broadcasting my face all over the news- nobody knows what I look like. You think someone who sticks out like a sore thumb like me would ever not be mobbed by people?” She pulled a face at the thought.

“Fair enough;” he hummed in agreement, “I don’t much care for attention either.” He cast a contemplative glance into the heart of the bar as Mark brought them their drinks with a smile and a nod. Shepard lifted her pint up in a toast.

“To Spectre training. Hopefully it won’t be a total disaster.”

Garrus clinked his two fingers of Turian brandy (neat) to her glass.

“To a not-total disaster.”

 

            They drank. The tealights flickered, casting shadows over their faces. Garrus raked his eyes over her forearms and huffed a short sigh.

“What’s on your mind?”

“I was wondering… what your tattoos were.” he asked, slightly embarrassed. Shepard started, looking down at her exposed arms, which were almost completely covered in designs.

“Oh!" she I forgot I rolled up her sleeves. Uh, this one is the co-ordinates of the exact place where I lifted off into space for the first time,” she explained, pointing to the numbers on her left wrist, “this one is a silhouette of some pine trees back in my hometown, it’s a cover-up of a gang symbol I used to have. This is a rat skull. They’re really tiny animals that live in cities on Earth. They get a bad rap. My whole right forearm is a galaxy map.”

“Did they hurt?” he asked quietly.

“Yeah, they did. But the pain is only temporary,” she smiled, absently tracing her finger over the pictures.

“Why do you do it?”

She shrugged.

“For fun, I guess? I mean, each one has a meaning, but I guess I just like it. Some of them, uh, cover up my scars from Akuze.” She stirred in her seat.

“Sorry, Shepard. Didn’t mean to bring up any bad memories.” He instinctually reached out to comfort her, then thought better of it, taking a drink instead. She turned her gaze downward and played with her hair.

“It’s fine. It was over a year ago, I’m dealing with it. Not talking about it is only going to make it worse, right? Anyway, It’s my turn to ask you a question,” she leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table, “you said you stopped your dad from blocking your entry to the Spectre program. How did that shake down?”

He sighed, downed the rest of his drink, and signaled Mark for another. Swirling the contents of the new glass, he launched into an explanation.

“I set it up so that whenever my father sent a message that contained my name in it, I would be notified and receive a copy,” he clicked his mandible irritably. “Not the most legal of things to do, especially not to a high-ranking C-Sec officer, but you don’t know my dad, the way he’s always meddling.” Across the table, Shepard nodded in solidarity, lips to her glass. “One day, I get a notification. He sent a message to a council operative explaining that he would not have me joining the Spectres, as he would not have me in a position to act with impunity. He said I was hot-headed. I tracked down the operative and contacted them personally, expressing my interest in the program. They accepted me; my dad was furious. Still is.” He stared at the plum-coloured brandy, clearly conflicted.

“Hey. I know he’s mad now, but I bet that, in some capacity, he’s still proud of you for doing your own thing. He’ll come around, Garrus.” He looked up at her doubtfully, and she offered him a sincere smile. “Have you spoken with him since you got here?”

He shook his head.

“Figured I’d give it a bit of time; let him cool off. I may be a hothead, but at least I come by it honestly.”

“You know him better than I do,” she replied, sipping her pint. “Give him time to chill out if you think that’s what he needs, but don’t wait too long. He’s still your dad and he’ll still want to hear _how_ you’re doing, even if he doesn’t agree with _what_ you’re doing.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right,” he reluctantly agreed. “My turn- what’s the deal with Alenko? That was some seriously awkward stuff back at the market. He’s obviously head-over-heels for you.”

Shepard groaned and buried her face in her hands.

“During N7 training, we were placed in squads of 6: one Sentinel, Vanguard, Adept, Soldier, Infiltrator, and Engineer. They wanted us to get used to working with a diverse team since we mostly just trained with our own classes. Kaidan was our Sentinel; I was the Infiltrator.” She drank deeply. “Naturally, when you spend a lot of time with a small group of people, you get comfortable. Kaidan and I hooked up a few times but kept it pretty low-key. I mean, a soldier has needs, right?” She blushed despite herself. “One day, when we got released for shore leave, he asked me out on a date. I figured, _why not_ , and we started going out. It was okay for all of about a week before it got weird. He was super attached to me and I wasn’t nearly on the same level of investment as him, so I broke it off. He was pretty upset about it. We didn’t talk outside of training for a long time and it’s been awkward ever since.” She downed the rest of her drink, visibly flustered.

“That bad?” Garrus asked, intrigued.

“Yeah,” she nodded, “he dropped the l-bomb on me after a week of dating. I was so not ready.”

“Ooh, ouch. Rookie mistake.”

“He’s really a sweet guy, and a great soldier. He’s just… a little too intense on the romantic front. I don’t think he knew what he was getting himself into anyway.” She ordered another beer (“One Horizon Hefeweizen please!”) and peered over the fresh pint. “Now you gotta tell me the ex story you mentioned earlier!"

“Which one?” he laughed.

“Whichever one makes you cringe the hardest,” her pale eyes dared him in the low light.

Garrus took a moment. Around them, the bar started filling up. The giant picture windows up front slowly tinted darker, obscuring the passersby outside.

“Alright, I’ve got one for you.” He crossed his legs. “There was someone I was seeing back in military training; we were pretty infatuated with each other. She was a fiery one, funny, smart, deadly as hell with a shotgun. We were in the same unit, we ate in the mess hall; sometimes we’d sneak into each other’s dorms.”

“Your first love, eh?” Shepard probed, amused.

Garrus nodded.

“We broke up a couple times over the years, but always got back together pretty quickly. We graduated together, figured we’d continue our careers side-by-side. About a week after graduation, she pinged me and told me she wanted to talk, told me to wait for her in a café. I didn’t suspect anything, because I was an idiot. She came in, sat down, broke up with me in three sentences, then ran out, flagged a cab, and she was gone.”

Shepard whistled.

“Whoa, what the hell? In a public place and everything? What did you do?”

“I ran out after her, not sure why; she was already gone. But it gets even better.” He sipped his brandy, feeling the warmth spread down his throat and into his belly. Everything felt slightly warmer, more pleasant. _Thank the spirits, the liquor is kicking in_. “Took me a while to get over it- three years out the window just like that. No explanation except that she’d found someone else. I could hardly believe it. She wouldn’t answer my messages, my calls, nothing. Fast forward about six months. I was working at C-Sec, responding to a routine call; domestic disturbance- lovers’ quarrel. My partner and I showed up at the apartment, and out of everyone on the Citadel, out of _everyone_ who could be having a fight with their boyfriend, it’s her. Turns out she was shacking up with this crazy Krogan, the same guy she left me for. He ended up having an outstanding warrant for assault and we arrested him on the spot; what a mess  _that_ was. He went on a rampage and we ended up having to stun the idiot so we could get restraints on him, meanwhile she was screaming at me not to hurt him even though it was apparent he’d been using her as a punching bag…” He shook his head. “She just kept screaming my name angrily, and my partner shot me this look like, _you_ know _this crazy person?_ ” He stroked his fringe with one hand, sighing, eyes gazing at the ceiling. Shepard barked a laugh, unable to control herself.

“I’m sorry, that’s just so awful.”

“I’m glad at least one of us got a kick out of it,” he grimaced.

“For the record, I’m sorry that happened, and they're both pieces of trash and not worth your time.”

“Thanks.”

She leaned forward, wanting to comfort but not knowing how to.

“You okay?”

His gaze rose to her face.

“Yeah. I’ll be fine,” he replied, subvocals dipping gloomily. Shepard's mouth pressed into a resolute line.

“Alright, I know what you need,” she announced, standing up and heading to the bar.

 _Way to go, you jerk_ , she admonished herself, _the first friend you make in this damn place and you can’t go one day without overstepping his boundaries._ She returned to the table with two shot glasses, one containing a light amber liquid; the other, a deep indigo.

“Shepard…”

“Whiskey. One dextro, one levo. Bottoms up.” She raised the amber liquid expectantly. He clinked his indigo shot against hers.

“Bottoms up.”

Shepard slammed her glass down on the table after downing the liquor.

“Eugh, okay. No moping. My turn to divulge something embarrassing. Your question.” Her eyes bored a hole in his skull, and she leant forward on the table, sizing him up. Feeling the liquid courage taking its effect, he mimicked her, resting his elbows on the tabletop; their faces mere inches apart. A flush crept into her cheeks. For some reason this excited him.

“Alright then,” his subvocals rumbling, “since we’re on the topic of former lovers: what’s your kill count?”

Shepard let out a startled cackle.

“Who taught you Human slang?” she demanded, trying her best not to smile and failing spectacularly.

“I hang out here a lot. Stop dodging my question," came his smug reply.

“A lot,” she stated, pink cheeks turning red.

Garrus shook his head.

“That’s not a real answer, I need a number. Unless,” he teased, “you lost count.”

Shepard’s poker face slipped for just a moment, eyes focused downward, at anything other than the smirking Turian who seemed to love testing her personal space as much as she loved to rage through his.

“I lost count,” she stated, exponentially more nonchalant than she felt, “so there.” She twisted a lock of her hair with one hand and sat back, gulping from her pint with the other, staring across the table.

“You’re blushing pretty hard, Shepard,” he tossed the last mouthful of his brandy back, “guess we’re even now.”

_Sonofabitch._

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! Thanks for reading. I thought it would be fun to do a more friendship-focused Shakarian fic, and also explore both of the characters in different ways. Flying by the seat of my pants but it ain't nothing but a thang. Hope you enjoy.


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